Breaking News
by Pidraya
Summary: A moment of intimacy on the brink of war. A story from 1999.


_**Naples Field Office, Italy**_

_**March 24th, 1999**_

_**1942**_

It was a bad combination when Jethro was pissed and horny - and she had no choice but to acknowledge that the horny part was her fault.

She'd kissed him on the stairwell earlier in the day.

That, in itself, was not unusual – and there would have been no physical response had it been an _en passant _kiss.

It happened often enough. A quick peck on the mouth as they went about their day. Eyes open, knowing smiles. Just enough to convey affection without creating physical tension.

But it had been a long week and, after being together twenty-four seven in the UK, they'd hardly spent any time together since their return.

Her parted lips had been an invitation his body wasn't used to turning down – and his reaction had been visceral.

She should have known to stop there - but of course she hadn't.

Instead she'd teased him. Running a manicured nail under his collar when nobody was looking; brushing his knuckles over a cup of coffee; standing too close to him; lowering her voice to alto pitch.

Her master plan had been to take him home over lunch and have her wicked way with him, but it hadn't worked out that way. And now it was evening, they'd skipped lunch altogether, things with Decker were about to boil over, and the Special Agent in Charge of the field office had just called to say that he wanted to have dinner with both men in less than an hour.

Effectively shooting down any plans to spend the evening doing what came naturally.

By three o'clock he'd ticked off most of the people around him.

By four, Pacci was about ready to throw in the towel, at six Callen had started to roll his eyes, and by seven he'd started to grate on _her_ nerves as well.

Finally she walked past his desk and slapped a post-it note to his phone.

"_Copier room_," was all it said.

"_What?_" he huffed as he stormed into the room a few minutes later.

"You're unbearable when you're like this," she said as she turned to face him with hands placed very firmly on her hips.

"_Like what?_"

"All revved up with nowhere to go, Jethro."

"That why you brought me in here? To tell me that?"

"I brought you in here to take the edge off before someone gets hurt. I know you're angry with Decker. With the situation. But walking around like a bear with a sore head isn't going to help your cause."

"I don't need you to take any edge off," he growled as he turned to leave.

"Sit down, Jethro," she said as she slipped between him and the closed door. "Or do you think you can manhandle me out of the way?" she added as he gripped her by the shoulders.

He dropped his hands immediately, and she brought her own up to cup his face.

Drawing it close to hers.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," she said as placed a gentle lick on the corner of his mouth and reached for the button on his waistband. Smiling as she heard the quick intake of breath. "Now sit."

She manoeuvred him slowly back into the chair by the shelves.

"Hey ..." he protested as she locked the door and turned off the light.

"What?" she turned the lights on again.

"Can't see you with the lights off."

"The only things you're going to be seeing are stars," she promised as she snapped the switch off again.

She knelt in front of him without hesitation.

Smiling in the darkness as the sound of his zipper going down infringed on the room's hush.

Pleased that he was lifting his hips to facilitate the pants' removal, and following her lead as opposed to resisting.

He wasn't fully erect yet, but she knew that would change very fast as she placed her hand on his lap and rubbed him gently. Although she couldn't see him, she was attuned to him enough to know that his neck had fallen backwards and that he was looking up at the ceiling through half closed eyes.

She let the smell of his warm crotch guide her. Moving him out of of the way enough to nuzzle the crease of this leg. Dampening the thick curly hair there when it tickled her face. That first taste enabling her senses just a little more.

She was rewarded with the first guttural sound the moment she pushed her lips sideways and nibbled his base. Working her way down to his sac, she felt strong fingers curl round her shoulder as soon as the sensitive skin brushed her chin.

She got her second moan as she pressed his hardness against his abdomen.

Rubbing it between her flattened palm and his stomach as she cleared the way for unobstructed access to his testicles. She felt him quiver as she engulfed him slowly but surely, and it was mere milliseconds before they contracted involuntarily from the stimulus.

She could feel the blood beginning to rush upwards beneath her hand, and as the skin elongated and became taut she waited patiently for it to pick up a pulse. Continuing to work him steadily towards engorgement.

Not needing to see to know that the gentle friction of her rubbing was sensitizing his top half; that it was already turning red and aching for a different kind of attention.

The adrenaline hit her head on, as it always did, the moment he reached full length.

His balls were pulled tightly against his body, and his legs were shifting ever so subtly. The hush in the room was back as his breathing got quieter; an attempt to cope with the tension in his hips and everything below them.

Her own breath became shallow as the ridges of the engorged head became discernible under her strong hand. Becoming shallower still as she felt slickness against her fingertips.

Changing techniques, she grasped him along the length and pumped slowly. Excruciatingly slowly, if his response was anything to go by.

It in no way made her pick up the pace.

A few short strokes later, she cradled the base.

Holding him upright and letting him throb in the airspace between them.

Anxious little breaths told her he was waiting for more stimulation, but as far as she was concerned he could wait.

There was no rush.

She followed the trail of his main vein as she worked her way slowly back upwards.

Feeling every beat of his heart between her lips.

Knowing that the cool air around them created a contrast that would fuel his anticipation.

The uncontrollable inhalation when she slid the tip of her tongue over the head and then added her mouth to the mix made her smile all over again.

For a brief moment she was happy he wasn't distracted by her body, or by thinking about what he was going to do to her. Was glad that he had this moment to focus only on what was being done to him.

She slid the head in and out in short suckles.

Teasing him mercilessly for a while before taking him in deeper.

A fraction of an inch at a time.

Keeping things sensitive by ending every few upstrokes with a swirling lick.

Moving down to stimulate his sac when her jaw began to ache.

As much of a break for him as it was for her; giving him respite, and the feeling that it was the first time all over again each time the interlude ended.

It didn't surprise her that he gradually became more vocal.

"Jen .." His voice was coarse as his hand fisted in her hair, and she was almost sure that his other one was curled round the edge of the seat as he braced for what was coming.

One of the things she loved most about their relationship was the way he gave himself over to her.

Even in this most rudimentary setting there was no sense of awkwardness.

No reservation.

It was as overwhelming as the sound of his quickened breathing above her, and the fluttering in his legs and stomach.

She could feel the liquid stress rising in him just as surely as he could; the head expanding just a bit more as the pulsing drawing to a climax.

Layer upon layer of tension built within the confines of her mouth – accentuated by moans he had no control over - and her head spun as he let go.

Pure physical instinct cutting loose.

She gave his head wide berth as he came down, but coaxed a few more spasms along by tonguing his base. Squeezing him between thumb and forefinger and drawing the last drops from him. Shuddering along with him, and feeling a surge of pride as his breathless appreciation filled the room.

"Jen .." he whispered after he'd had time to rehabilitate. Stroking her hair as she sat on the floor with her head on the edge of his thigh.

"Yes?"

"I owe you."

"We're even."

Memories of a quickie a few weeks earlier made them both smile as they sat contentedly in silence.

"Jen .. Jen!" The door knob rattled violently. "Jen, I saw you go in there, so open up." The knob rattled again.

Jen cracked the door open as Gibbs retreated into the recesses of the room to make himself presentable.

They were expecting some smart-ass comment from Pat, but she had clearly had no time for any of that.

"It's just been made official," she said. "They've started the bombing."

Jen turned to Gibbs with wide eyes.

Although they'd known since the night before that an air strike was not only on the cards but imminent, she'd still held out the hope – naively perhaps – that it wouldn't come to that.

"Guess dinner's off," she said slowly.

* * *

_**Svetlana's apartment**_

_**Paris, France  
**_

She paced the apartment nervously.

Aware that she was chewing on her lower lip but unable to stop herself from doing so.

The television blared in the background but she couldn't focus on what was being said because her stomach was too tied up in knots.

She had no idea where Anatoly was - because he'd told her this was an outside job and it would be safer for both of them if she didn't know – and she had no idea when he was coming back.

She tried to tell herself that he could be anywhere, but the part of her that was attuned to him screamed that he was right there in the thick of it.

Out there somewhere - in Kosovo.

She pressed his signet ring to her mouth as she walked up and down her living room one more time.

"Stay safe, my love," she whispered. "Stay safe."

* * *

**Author's note:**

_NATO_ began its official bombing campaign on March 24th, 1999 at 1900 UTC (Coordinated Universal Time). That would make it 2000 in Naples because DST (Daylight Savings Time) did not go into effect until Sunday, March 28th that year.

On the other hand, I am particularly mathematically challenged – so if I have it wrong, please overlook this detail.


End file.
